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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26705689">Inservio</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/syntheticvision/pseuds/syntheticvision'>syntheticvision</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Marvel Cinematic Universe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, I'll update tags as I go, Protective Bruce Banner, Tags Are Hard, first person POV</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 06:20:04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,551</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26705689</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/syntheticvision/pseuds/syntheticvision</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce Banner finds out his new secretary is obedient, even when he pushes her limits.</p><p>And he really, really likes to push her limits.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bruce Banner/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>122</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Sometimes I have these moments where I should probably stop writing.</p><p>But here we are.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Excited for your first day?”</p><p>I cradled the phone between my ear and shoulder, pulling the lasagna from the oven that Mr. Coulson’s wife had sent up for me. Always a sweet woman, making sure that she fed me, no matter how much I protested that I was fine.</p><p>“A little nervous,” I admitted, taking off the oven mitts and tossing them on the counter. “They switched my position. I’ll be reporting to someone else now.”</p><p>“Who?”</p><p>“Uhhh, I think his name is Doctor Banner? Another scientist.”</p><p>There was a dramatic sigh on the other end of the phone.</p><p>“Oh, what a shame. Dr. Samson would have gotten a great secretary.”</p><p>“Thanks, Mom. I’m a little nervous, considering I don’t know who Doctor Banner is. There’s not a whole lot about him on the website and he’ll be on vacation for at least another few days from what I was told.”</p><p>“I’m sure he’s a nice man. You know, in the event it doesn’t work out, your father has a friend from his law office that may be in need of someone. It’s close by.”</p><p>I rolled my eyes at her comment, the steam from the lasagna curling and dissipating into the air. Of course she wanted to be close by. It was easier to keep tabs on me that way.</p><p>“I’ll be fine,” I promised, grabbing a paper plate and a spatula. “At least let me work there for a day before I say I hate it.”</p><p>It was a joke but the moment I said it, she latched on and clucked her tongue with disapproval.</p><p>“I just worry about you, that’s all. This is your third job within a year. It would be nice if you had some stability.”</p><p>“Mom,” I warned, feeling the first sparks of annoyance take hold. “I’ll be fine.”</p><p>“Okay, okay,” she relented. “Call me when your first day is done. I want to hear all about it.”</p><p>“I will,” I promised, waiting for her to hang up first.</p><p>She hadn’t been wrong about my work history but I was determined to prove her wrong. I’d spent hours on my resume, even writing a detailed cover letter to prove that I was serious. The interview I’d dreaded ended up being a panel of four people and I was so nervous that I had been sure that I would have been living off of Top Ramen for the rest of my days until I was offered the job.</p><p>I’d shopped at some thrift stores to find suitable business professional clothes. The last thing I needed was my mother coming in to save the day and making sure I heard about it and then some. That was her way, making sure that she protected the people she cared about and telling the world about it.</p><p>Which was why I didn’t tell her that I was all but running out of food and that my landlord’s wife was leaving me groceries at my doorstep.</p><p>By the time I settled into the small couch and dug into my dinner, it was the perfect temperature and I savored every bite. I was pretty sure that the tomato sauce was made from scratch and I resisted the urge to lick the plate clean.</p><p>I’d packed a meager lunch for the next day, a sandwich and a soda because that was all I had left. I took one more look at my shoes that I had bought earlier in the day, black flats with a neat little bow that was in the form of a bat. A little childish, I supposed, but it was October and I wanted to get into the spirit of the holiday.</p><p>I felt a familiar sensation in my stomach as anxiety had begun. This meant it was time for bed, putting on a podcast and sticking my earphones in my ears while I waited for sleep to come.</p><p>🗝</p><p>“Do your feet hurt yet? I think we’ve walked around this whole campus,” Willa, the receptionist who acted as my tour guide, gave me a big smile. “It’s a big facility but you’ll find your way around eventually.”</p><p>The cafeteria was massive, with various stations that boasted cuisine from around the world. I felt out of place with my brown bagged lunch, unwrapping my ham and cheese sandwich while Willa dug into her caprese salad.</p><p>“Every Friday is dessert day. Last week it was panna cotta. Sooo many different flavors,” she informed me excitedly.</p><p>I crumpled up the bag, realizing how loud the noise was when a few people turned around from their seats to stare. Only slightly embarrassing.</p><p>“Thank you for the tour. I’m still shocked that I have an office space. It’s huge.”</p><p>“Oh yeah, Doctor Banner needs a lot of space and he was gifted that wing of the hall so you’re lucky.”</p><p>I chewed a bite of my sandwich slowly while she pushed around her salad with her fork.</p><p>“Has anyone told you about him?” Willa asked, her brown eyes sparkling with curiosity.</p><p>“About who? Doctor Banner? I don’t think so.”</p><p>“The interns might try to scare you. They say he has a temper. I’ve never seen it and I’ve been working here for over two years but it comes up once in while. I don’t mean to say it to worry you. This new batch of interns love to gossip so I’m sure they’ll be interested in making sure they tell you about him.”</p><p>A temper. Just what I needed to hear. Rumor or not, there was always somewhat a bit of truth it, wasn’t there?</p><p>“Does he?” I asked.</p><p>Willa shrugged, which didn’t exactly give me the confidence that I needed.</p><p>“I’ve never seen him be mad. A little annoyed but who isn’t these days?”</p><p>I finished the last of my soda while she finished off her salad. A group of interns walked by in lab coats, their badges pinned to their pockets while they held onto their trays.</p><p>“Fresh meat,” Willa pointed them out with her fork. “They are in the nano-molecular field. Dr. Cho doubled her intern pool. They’re excited now but she runs a tight ship. I’ll bet at least four of them quit.”</p><p>“Yikes.”</p><p>She downed the last of her water and picked up her tray, signaling that lunchtime was over.</p><p>“We still have a whole other sector to introduce you to. Let’s go. Not to mention, the Halloween party in a few days. It’s cheesy but fun.”</p><p>🗝</p><p>Heels were a poor choice.</p><p>Especially standing in one place, observing the party goers while an astronaut approached the table. The helmet was lifted with gloved hands, the man inside pretending to struggle to breathe before he broke out into a laugh.</p><p>I smiled politely at his joke, trying to focus on the line that had now formed behind him of costumed colleagues. The company Halloween party was a big deal. At least, that was what the interns had told me before we drew straws for each station.</p><p>“Punch Dr. Samson?” I offered, dipping the ladle into the murky green concoction. My mother was still bemoaning the fact that I didn't report to Dr. Samson, who I was beginning to think had tried to play matchmaker.</p><p>“Why aren’t you dressed up?” he asked, accepting the paper cup. “It’s a party.”</p><p>“No time this morning, I'm afraid,” I admitted, pouring another ladle full of punch into a cup and handing it to Willa, who was dressed like Glinda the Good Witch.</p><p>“Well, make sure you at least try some of Rhonda’s cake. It’s got that marshmallow fluff inside, I think. Good stuff.”</p><p>Dr. Samson raised his cup to me before he left the table. In between handing out punch, I focused on placing names with faces. At least, those that didn’t have masks on. As far as jobs went, this was probably the best one I’d ever had and I had only been here a week. I didn’t even mind manning the punch bowl.</p><p>I opened up another sleeve of paper cups, my back to the table, examining the decorations that had been placed up with transparent tape.</p><p>“Can’t believe people go crazy for some fruit juice and green food coloring,” a voice said behind me.</p><p>Zorro, right down to the prop sword and black hat, was in front of me when I turned around. I placed the paper cups on the table, reaching for one to pour him some punch. He held up his hand with a simple shake of his head.</p><p>“I’m good, thanks,” the man replied. “You’re the new girl, right?”</p><p>“Yes, Sir,” I answered. “Dr. Samson’s assistant. Or... was. I’m moving over to Dr. Banner’s office next week when he comes back from vacation.”</p><p>He extended a gloved hand and I took it carefully, shaking it briskly. His grip was hard on my hand.</p><p>“Call me Bruce,” he instructed warmly. “It’s a pleasure.”</p><p>I let go of his hand and nodded, lacing my fingers behind together while he surveyed the rest of the table.</p><p>The interns had told me in the past few days about Dr. Bruce Banner. That he was a hard man to please, a perfectionist with an anger problem. The man in front of me seemed anything but, waving politely to a few people while I dipped the ladle back into the punch bowl as a Panda Bear approached the table.</p><p>"I'm so sorry Dr. Banner, I need to get back to the drinks," I replied, turning my attention back to the table. "It's nice to finally meet you."</p><p>"Don't apologize," Dr. Banner answered with a grin. "Remember, it's Bruce."</p><p>I handed another cup of punch to Peter Pan.</p><p>"Of course. Bruce.”</p><p>He had a nice smile, even if half of his face was covered.</p><p>Bruce.</p><p>I needed to remember that.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I’d survived my first week of work relatively unscathed.</p><p>More gossip from the interns, who managed to find every opportunity to talk to me because I was a listening ear. Willa had been correct in her assumption – two of the interns had quit over Dr. Cho’s low tolerance for excuses when mistakes were made. No one could fault her for that.</p><p>By Friday, the last intern to corner me in the breakroom to launch into a tirade over their lost colleagues admitted that they were feeling the pressure before there was a full meltdown of tears.  Quite simply, anyone who survives Dr. Cho’s internship gets a glowing reference from Helen herself, which is like gold in the scientific sector. After a few reminders that they’ve survived this far and a small pep talk about accountability, I finish off the last of my tea and head back to the office.</p><p>Dr. Banner’s lab is next door to my office, his name in block letters across the door. I’ve been instructed by Willa since day one to always knock. Not that I needed anything at the moment. I hadn’t seen much of him since he had returned, mostly catching glances of him halfway across the campus. </p><p>It only felt right to say goodnight and wish him a good weekend. I pulled my coat and scarf, adjusting my backpack over my shoulders before I turned off the lights to my office.</p><p>I knocked twice, waiting to hear any sound of him approaching, shadows moving under the small space under the door. The door cracked open, Dr. Banner – Bruce – pushing up his wire rimmed glasses up his nose. I realized this was the first time I’d actually seen his entire face. He was handsome, thick wavy black hair with a little gray sprinkled in. </p><p>“Hey. Everything okay?” he asked, looking concerned.</p><p>“Oh,” I realized, looking behind him to see his giant computer monitor going berserk, files popping up and the speakers chiming. “You’re busy. I’m so sorry. I just wanted to tell you I was heading out and for you to have a good weekend.”</p><p>“Nothing to be sorry about. Where are my manners?” He opened the door wider. “Come on in. I’ve actually never had a secretary before, let alone have people that report to me. I’m more of a loner, I guess.”</p><p>I followed behind him as he pulled out a chair, motioning for me to sit.</p><p>The lab space was massive, at least the size of two classrooms. Formulas were scribbled on the whiteboards in various colors, machines lining the walls. I was thankful for my coat at the moment. The lab was freezing.</p><p>Bruce parked himself at his computer, turning his chair toward me.</p><p>“Did you have a good week? Sorry I wasn’t around for it. Been a busy time lately.”</p><p>He looked guilty for the moment, his eyes glancing over at his monitor.</p><p>“Sorry, one moment,” he apologized, turning back to his computer and typing rapidly, the sound of the keys echoing in the space. “Trying to finalize a formula for a program.”</p><p>“I can go,” I offered, watching his eyebrows furrow. “You’re busy, it’s totally okay.”</p><p>His desk phone rang loudly, hidden under a stack of papers. He stuck his hand under the papers, fumbling for the phone.</p><p>“Christ,” he muttered. “Hang on. Sorry.”</p><p>I folded my hands in my lap, still looking around the lab. </p><p>“No,” Bruce snapped, his voice taking a hard turn. “You tell Hogan I can’t meet with Stark until next month. My entire month is booked.”</p><p>With a groan, he hung up the phone and stood up.</p><p>“Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right back.” He shook his head, murmuring something under his breath. He turned back around to face me.</p><p>“You don’t have anywhere to be, do you?”</p><p>“No,” I answered quickly, the urge to facepalm strong as soon as I had blurted out my denial. </p><p>So much for being the mysterious secretary I’d imagined myself to be. Not a plan in sight on a Friday night.</p><p>“Okay, great. I’ll be right back.”</p><p>I resisted the urge to get up and walk around to explore his office. There was a lot to see, my curiosity off the charts at what each machine could do. Probably something dangerous, no doubt. Despite his desk being filled with papers, everything else was immaculate.</p><p>After a few minutes, I pulled out my phone and scrolled through some text messages. A lot from my mother, going on about something her neighbors had been doing. She’d installed an app that allowed people to comment about the goings on in the neighborhood and she was leading the charge.</p><p>I’d only been waiting a few minutes longer than I expected. I wondered if he had to go to the front of the campus, which in itself was at least a fifteen minute walk. I got lost in a book I had downloaded two days prior, some murder mystery that I wasn’t able to put down the night I had bought it.</p><p>I was deep in a chapter when the door opened, Dr. Banner again looking at me in disbelief.</p><p>“You’re still here.”</p><p>“You told me to not go anywhere,” I reminded him.</p><p>Why on earth was he so surprised? It hadn’t been that long, had it?</p><p>My eyes dropped to the time on my phone and I felt the heat creep into my cheeks. </p><p>At least an hour and a half had passed.</p><p>“I didn’t realize I’d been gone that long,” Dr. Banner muttered, rubbing his jaw. “I lost track of time talking with Leonard. Go on home, I’m sorry I kept you waiting.”</p><p>I felt pathetic, stuffing my phone inside my coat pocket as I got up. Not only had I admitted that I didn’t have plans, I also now looked desperate.</p><p>“Are you okay?”</p><p>His question carried over the sound of the chair that I had moved unceremoniously out of the way, the rubber tips on the bottom of the chair squeaking loudly. Wonderful. I was even incapable of making a quiet exit. I knew that he picked up on the fact that I was uncomfortable and I appreciated the concern but I also wanted to a hole in the ground to appear so I could be swallowed up whole.</p><p>“Yeah, I’m great.” At least I wasn’t looking at him when I told my lie.</p><p>My hand reached the doorknob when I heard him call my name. I focused on the wood paneling of the door while I answered.</p><p>“Yes, Doctor Banner?”</p><p>“Bruce.”</p><p>His voice was low, authoritative like I’d broken a rule.</p><p>“Bruce,” I forced out between my clenched teeth.</p><p>“I'm really sorry about today. How about I take you out to lunch on Monday? Like an official welcome to the campus and to what I do around here. If you’re up for it.”</p><p>“Sure thing.”</p><p>I was trying to wish away the awkwardness I was feeling while I looked over my shoulder to nod a thank you in his direction.</p><p>When I tried to twist the knob, it seemed to be stuck. I tried twice more before I felt a hand placed on top of mine, warm and his grip surprisingly strong as his fingers slotted between mine and he turned it to the right. I could smell his faint cologne, light enough to barely scent it but it was nice, woodsy and spicy, his body slightly pressing against my backpack to open it.</p><p>“Sometimes the air condition will cause an airlock. You just have to give it a good push for it to open up,” he instructed, the weight of him disappearing within a blink of an eye.</p><p>“Good to know.”</p><p>A smile played up on the corner of his lips before I took a step out the door.</p><p>“Have a good weekend. See you Monday. Remember, lunch is on me.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I was proud of myself for the lunch I’d packed by the time Monday came around. The spaghetti in the glass bowl was hot to the touch by the time the microwave had finished for the second round of reheating. I tore open a packet of parmesan cheese that I had left over from the pizza I’d ordered on Saturday night, sprinkling it over the pasta and meat sauce. I felt a shadow over me while I twisted the fork into a half circle to twirl the pasta.</p><p>Once we made eye contact, I realized my mistake.</p><p>“Oh.” The fork sagged to the side of the bowl as I let go. “It’s Monday.”</p><p>Bruce raised an eyebrow, his hands still jammed into his coat pockets.</p><p>“I totally forgot,” I apologized, feeling embarrassed at the thought of forgetting that he had graciously offered to buy me lunch.</p><p>“My fault. Probably should have reminded you,” Bruce countered, looking at my lunch. “Is that spaghetti?”</p><p>I nodded, feeling a slight sense of shame in the fact that I could have gotten a free lunch. The dessert today was a red velvet cake with cream cheese frosting, something I’d hovered over with my lunch bag in hand before I talked myself out it. Five bucks for a slice of cake was pricey, especially with me still trying to get current with my bills.</p><p>Bruce squinted at the monitors behind me, taking a step forward to get a better look.</p><p>“Guess I’m in luck. Spaghetti is on the menu for today. I’ll be right back.”</p><p>The moment he stepped away, I slumped in my seat, stuffing another bite into my mouth. </p><p>What a fine impression I was making.</p><p>I started to eat slower and his tray slid across from me as he sat down, two slices of red velvet cake on along with his plate of spaghetti.</p><p>“Figured we could use a little dessert.”</p><p>“Dr. Banner, you didn’t have to,” I mumbled, though I wasn’t going to turn it down.</p><p>“Bruce, remember? And of course I did. It’s literally the least I could do since you wouldn’t let me buy you lunch.”</p><p>He placed the slice of cake in front of me as he sprinkled the cheese over his spaghetti. It was awkward silence for a moment, both of us eating among the bustle of the people around us.</p><p>“I actually cleared my schedule this afternoon so I could give you a tour of the campus. That way you’ll know your way around and if you’re looking for me, you’ll know where to go.”</p><p>“That sounds good,” I answered, finishing the last of my spaghetti.</p><p>“Oh, you have a little, um,” Bruce started, touching his finger to the side of his mouth.</p><p>I snatched up the napkin, trying to wipe the sauce from my lips.</p><p>“A little to the left,” he instructed, my hand moving slower to the direction he called out. “Too far.”</p><p>With how much the napkin was moving around my face, I could have sworn that I could it. Finally he leaned forward, a napkin in his own hand.</p><p>“Uh, do you mind if I…”</p><p>“Go ahead,” I replied, embarrassment flooding through me.</p><p>He dabbed the napkin gently at the corner of my mouth and then at my chin in a soft stroke.</p><p>“Better.”</p><p>I was mortified but he didn’t seem to mind, his gaze dropping back down to his lunch as I folded my napkin and placed it off to the side.</p><p>“Thank you. I swear I don’t eat like a pig.”</p><p>“Well, it’s spaghetti. You wouldn’t be eating it correctly if you didn’t get the sauce anywhere, right?” He made sure to look down at his own shirt before he continued. “I guess I just need to catch up to you.”</p><p>He was trying to make me feel better and I had to admit that it was working. I tended to dwell on these types of embarrassment – locking them away for the moment to mull through them when I was back inside my apartment and in bed, eyes wide at the actions I’d taken earlier in the day that I knew were more significant in my head than anything else.</p><p>“Not interested in your cake?”</p><p>At his question, I realized I’d been staring at it absentmindedly for the moment, unsure of how long I’d been spaced out.</p><p>“Are you going to eat yours?”</p><p>Bruce let out a small laugh before he picked up his fork.</p><p>“I’ll let you in on a secret. I’ve actually never had red velvet cake before. I was hoping you’d try it first.”</p><p>“You haven’t?”</p><p>“I’m more of a carrot cake fan. I saw you studying the desserts so I figured it must have been good if you were looking at it longer than a few seconds.”</p><p>“It’s one of my favorites,” I admitted.</p><p>“You go first then.”</p><p>“You don’t trust red velvet cake?”</p><p>“I trust the unbridled way people enjoy things in their lives. I’ve been tricked before. I had this confetti cake, I think it’s called. Everyone told me it was good but I could see in their faces that it was not as good as they hyped it up to be.”</p><p>“Funfetti?” I corrected with a laugh, spearing a piece of the cake with my fork. “It’s too sweet for me.”</p><p>“Exactly,” Bruce agreed. “I saw it when a friend of mine took a bite and there was this delay between her tastebuds. Too sweet man, I found that out the hard way.”</p><p>I took a bite, the dense cocoa of the cake amid the semi-sweet cream cheese frosting tasted like heaven in my mouth and I closed my eyes briefly before I licked the last of the frosting from my lips.</p><p>“Yeah,” I answered slowly, savoring the taste. “Still my favorite.”</p><p>Bruce blinked slowly as he swallowed hard, taking a bite of his cake.</p><p>“You’re right,” he answered, still looking at me. “It is good.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The campus was bigger than I'd originally thought. Bruce kept me occupied with anecdotes about the buildings we passed, the students walking past that seemed to want to stop and call out to him. It was apparent he was popular on campus, even with his shy demeanor. It was charming in a way, watching him stop mid-sentence to listen to his name being shouted across the way as someone raised their hand to wave.</p><p>"The students seem to love you," I acknowledged, watching a hint of red spread over his cheeks as he adjusted his glasses.</p><p>"Most of the ones you see are my former students. I taught Intro to Physics a while back when one of the professors went on maternity leave. I guess I did a good job," he replied with a sheepish smile. "Or at least, that's what I like to tell myself."</p><p>We took the scenic route to the next building, my shoes slipping into the soft and slippery mud as I tried to focus on my steps as he continued about the building. Built sometime in the late 1800s, one of the oldest structures on the campus. I followed behind, trying to keep up with his brisk walk. My right foot slipped forward and I went down, pain shooting down my ankle to my foot as I fell unceremoniously onto the ground.</p><p>At the sound of my pained gasp, he turned around, shock registering on his face as he knelt to try to assess what happened. My pants were covered in mud, my hand slick with the wet earth as I tried to ignore the pulsing pain. I knew I had sprained my ankle. There was no doubt the way it already looked as I moved it forward and tried to wiggle my toes.</p><p>"I always forget they overwater this part of the field," Bruce muttered with a shake of his head. "Are you okay?"</p><p>I was embarrassed enough to want to try to stand on my own and make some excuse to go home and lick my wounds. I'd heard the shocked gasps from the onlookers who were starting to advance toward us on the field, curious and helpful as I focused on the dirt that had collected on my pants.</p><p>"I can try to stand," I offered, taking his outstretched hand as my cheeks burned with mortification. As he pulled me up, my foot throbbed as I tried to put a small bit of weight on it, hissing as a shock of pain went up to my leg.</p><p>"Nope," Bruce denied. "I have a feeling you sprained it. Hopefully, that's all it is."</p><p>I didn't want to admit that he was probably right. As a few people made it toward us, concerning questions tumbling out of their mouths as Bruce tried to assure them that he was handling it. The small crowd made me more humiliated at the fall and I tried to explain that I was fine, as Bruce placed an arm around my waist to keep me steady.</p><p>"Are you okay if you favor one foot? I could carry you if you can't.</p><p>At the sound of that, I focused all my weight on my left foot, hopping pathetically on one foot as we started to make our way off of the field. I'd never sprained anything before and this was not pleasant. my mind thought of if I had to miss work and I slightly panicked. I was still on probation and per the college agreement, I'd be watched for the first sixty days.</p><p>"The infirmary is right over there," Bruce mentioned with a nod of his head in the direction of a small building. "You holding up okay?"</p><p>I nodded, still hopping slowly as my ankle started to swell. I hoped it was a small sprain - something that would require a bandage and then I could be on my way. I didn't mind the pain. The way it was almost a weird dull ache that made me want to apply pressure on it. The thought registered as I pressed more weight on it, biting down on my lip as Bruce looked at me.</p><p>"Don't hurt yourself," he warned. "It could be a bigger sprain than you think."</p><p>🗝</p><p>"Grade two ankle sprain," the nurse informed me with a sympathetic smile. "Not bad enough you'll need surgery but you need to keep weight off of it."</p><p>Bruce watched from the chair he sat in as the nurse held my ankle in his hand.</p><p>"For how long?" I asked, mentally hoping that it would not be too long.</p><p>"Four to six weeks," the nurse answered. "It's already swelling. I'll write you a script for a walking boot. It'll be enough for you to get to and from but you should still keep weight off of it."</p><p>"Four to six weeks? But I need to get around. I just started here," I protested, hating that I wanted to cry. Four to six weeks meant that I'd be chained to a desk and that was only if Bruce approved it. Not exactly a great first impression.</p><p>"You'll be fine," Bruce answered with a nod. "I'm sure we could find some things to keep you occupied while you recover. It's my fault anyway for taking that shortcut. I should have known better. The ground is usually slippery."</p><p>"But what about the reports I have to send off?" That lump in my throat was beginning to form as I searched Bruce's face for any signs of disappointment. My job was simple and clear cut. Any research he had, any breakthroughs, those were sent off immediately to the dean. I was supposed to handle his appointments, his schedule overall and to run errands. I couldn't do that sitting in a chair.</p><p>"That's what email is for. Seriously, it's not a big deal," Bruce remarked. "You got hurt because of me."</p><p>The nurse wrapped my ankle in a bandage slowly as I watched swathes of my skin disappear under the white tape.</p><p>"Won't that affect my probation?"</p><p>Bruce raised an eyebrow at my question.</p><p>"Hardly. I'm the one who decides when your probation is over, anyway. You have nothing to worry about. This is my fault, not yours. I don't think you can drive with that injured foot, can you?"</p><p>He had a point. I shook my head, trying my best not to cry at the situation. It wasn't even that dire. I just was so embarrassed that I wanted the ground to open and swallow me whole. Brand new job and already injured.</p><p>"I'll give you a ride home. Take today and the rest of tomorrow off," Bruce instructed.</p><p>"Dr. Banner," I protested, watching the nurse give me a small smile as he finished. "I can't ask you to do that."</p><p>"<em>Bruce</em>. You didn't need to ask. We'll swing by and grab your things, stop off and get that walking boot and I'll drop you off at your apartment. You can keep that foot propped up for the rest of the night," Bruce continued, getting up from his chair. "I'll go get the wheelchair."</p><p>"Wheelchair? I can walk, I promise," I lied, watching him slow his steps toward the door.</p><p>"It's either hop or take the metal chariot. I'm not letting you hop out of here. Be right back."</p><p>I slumped back against the chair as the nurse stood up, looking at his work as the door closed.</p><p>"Best to listen to Dr. Banner. He won't take no for an answer, even if you try to argue with him. He'll always win in the long run. He's almost as stubborn as some of these athletes that come in here."</p><p>Almost as if on cue, Dr. Banner opened the door, the wheelchair in his hands as he placed it in front of me.</p><p>"I could just hop on out," I said in a half plea. "Really, I don't think I need all the fanfare."</p><p>"Hardly," Bruce responded. "It's easier and safer this way."</p><p>The nurse helped me up as I hopped over to the chair, sinking into the heavy-duty nylon chair as he hummed a song and turned to push me outside of the room.</p><p>"Just relax. We'll be back to the office before you know it."</p><p>🗝</p><p>Once we were back in the office, I'd forgotten about my wrapped ankle and I stood up to reach for my purse, falling back into the chair as I forgot about my injury. As pain shot down my foot, Bruce looked at my ankle, kneeling as he held it up carefully.</p><p>"Is everything okay? Did you hurt it again?"</p><p>"No. God, I hope not," I whispered, still trying to find my breath.</p><p>His fingers brushed against the bandage, soft and gentle as he ran his hand down the length of my foot. With a small bit of pressure, he moved it up and down as I sucked in a breath, his eyes locking onto mine.</p><p>"Did that hurt?"</p><p>"A-a little," I admitted. "I'm sorry. I'm a baby when it comes to pain."</p><p>His grip loosened immediately, his throat bobbing up and down as he swallowed, still cradling my foot in his hand.</p><p>"Sorry," he apologized. "Sometimes I don't know my own strength. I didn't mean to hurt you."</p><p>"It's okay," I qualified, trying to mimic the slight pain from his grasp as I moved my ankle back and forth. "It's just a little stiff."</p><p>Bruce smiled at me and back down at my foot as he handed me my purse.</p><p>"I'm sure it just needs a little stretch and you'll be fine. That comes later. Rest first."</p>
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